7. Ash
My parking lot pacing in the dark felt a little too broody Byronic hero, but the static of anxiety while waiting for Olivia to arrive kept my feet moving, following the length of my car.
Headlights appeared, tires squealed, and she slammed into a parking spot across from mine.
A massive backpack weighed her down, enormous headphones dangled from her neck, and a travel mug roughly the size of a bucket sloshed as she half-ran, dragging a gargantuan suitcase toward me.
“I’m coming! Sorry, I’m late!” Evidence of our late night left her face pinched and wan, with a few traces of eyeliner still smudged beneath her lashes. Dark half-moon-shaped purple splotches told me she probably hadn’t slept.
“You’re right on time.” My own duffle slung over my back, I reached to take her backpack from its precarious perch on one shoulder.
For a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t let me help, but I arched a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes and relented.
Jesus, fuck, the thing was heavy. “Barnes, we’re going to be gone for three days. ”
“I know, I know.” The plaintive lilt of her voice only added to her tiredness. “But I didn’t know what to bring to the hospital. And I have to work on the plane, and—” Her words cut off abruptly as her suitcase smacked into the back of her legs. “Goddamn motherfucking son of a cocksucking who?—”
“Okay, you’re officially cut off from the caffeine.” Reaching out, I took the travel mug out of her hands.
“Ugh, fuck you, that’s the only thing keeping me alive right now.” She made grabby hands, well hand, at it.
“Language, Olivia.”
“ Fuck . You. Give it back.”
She smacked me in the arm. I laughed when she swore again, shaking her fingers.
“Is it too much to fucking ask for you to not be hard as a rock?”
“My manhood is affronted by that statement, Princess.” I mean, she walked right into that one. I couldn’t contain a chuckle at her glare.
“It’s too early in the morning to talk about your manhood… Hockey Pants.”
“Ooh, no. That’s the best you’ve got? Try again.”
“Don’t fucking call me Princess and I won’t fucking call you Hockey Pants. Deal?”
“You’re feisty in the morning. I like it.”
She froze, sort of turning in on herself, and we crossed the final few yards to the shuttle bus in silence. What the hell did I say?
After we loaded the bags in the cargo area, I wordlessly handed the enormous cup back to her.
She hugged it to her chest with one hand, adjusting her backpack with the other, keeping several yards between herself and the others waiting for the bus to leave.
Friends and family intermingled with the other Knights, saying their goodbyes in varying degrees of affection.
I looked for Trip, our captain. Usually, he told us it was time to go, but he was suspiciously absent.
Weird. Trip was never late. Like, ever. He took it personally when we were late and made us skate extra lines if we were over five minutes late to practice.
Light spilled out of the office, blinding me in the dark. As my eyes adjusted, I couldn’t quite make sense of what I saw. A dark-haired woman pushing a bearded man in a wheelchair.
Lauren, Trip’s situationship and mother of his two daughters, pushed Trip in a wheelchair. As the others noticed too, a startled hush spread over us. Close behind the pair, Coach Olsen closed and locked the door, completing our group.
“Well.” Trip shifted his weight in the chair. Scrapes and bruises covered his face, which wasn’t that unusual, considering our profession. Then I noticed the cast on his leg, from hip to foot, with only the tips of his toes peeking out. “Looks like I’m out for the season.”
Low, shocked murmurs from my teammates echoed my thoughts. What the fuck ? How are we going to make it without Trip? Who’s going to be captain now?
Coach put a rough hand on Trip’s shoulder and told us he planned to choose a new captain in the winter. Anyone interested should speak with him in the next week.
A half-formed thought spun through the back of my mind, but I shoved it aside to listen to Trip’s explanation about his car accident.
It was uncanny; his accident must’ve happened around the same time as Olivia’s dad’s.
Checking to be sure she was okay, I saw her scrolling on her phone, several feet away from the small, gathered crowd.
Her hand shook, but when she glanced up to find me looking at her, she saluted with the giant cup and turned partially away, as if to give me privacy.
With the team in low spirits after Trip’s dramatic announcement, we loaded the bus, passing the short ride to the airport in silence.
Even Dante, whose mouth usually ran a mile a minute about nothing, stared out a window in silence.
A few of the guys eyed her curiously, but no one questioned it.
It wasn’t unheard of for a partner or kid to tag along with the team, though some time had passed since Coach allowed someone to join us.
On the plane, I fell back to let Olivia choose her seat, unsure where she’d be most comfortable. She chose a window seat, and I settled beside her. While we waited for everyone to finish loading, I fished a bag of sour gummy worms from my bag and offered her a few.
“If the trainers see these, they’re yours, okay? Candy is contraband.” Most of the time, I followed the trainers’ high-protein meal plans, but sour candy was my weakness. And candy in general. And anything Nana cooked.
With a little laugh, Olivia took a few brightly colored candy worms, then flipped her headphones up and leaned sideways to rest her head against the wall.
Our spacious seats were comparable to first class on commercial flights, but she squished herself into a tiny space, radiating tension.
The tapping of her fingers in a blurring rhythm broadcast her anxiety louder than if she’d screamed it in my ear.
An idea struck me, and I rummaged in my bag again, pulling out another bag of illegal candy and a paperback I plucked at random off a shelf in Nana’s side of the library.
We used the room equally, but it was definitely Nana’s library.
In my house. My love of reading came from my grandparents, though, so I didn’t begrudge her the use of the space.
Besides, she had excellent taste in reading material.
The book in my hand had a floral cover, but when I flipped through it before leaving, it almost made me blush.
And there was magic, always a plus, and I lost myself in the pages.
Finally, we began taxiing down the runway.
Olivia’s knuckles whitened around her cup in one hand and an e-reader in the other.
I wondered what she was reading, but the faint green tinge to her face made me keep my question to myself.
For now, anyway. Captain Jill was the best pilot, always giving us smooth landings and take-offs, but maybe Olivia was just a bad flyer.
Dark sky surrounded us as we ascended, leaving the lights of Portland behind us, and an audible swallowing came from Olivia’s direction.
“What’re you reading?”
“What?” Strain squeezed the word into a little exhale.
I reached out and tapped the e-reader.
“Oh. Umm. Nothing.” Her eyes flicked away.
“Hmm. Wanna see mine?” I showed her the book, then held it out to the page I marked.
When her jaw dropped, which was the exact reaction I wanted from her, I laughed. “Borrowed this one from Nana.”
“Polly does have excellent taste. Fine, I’ll show you, but I will hear no judgment.”
I raised my hands. “Who am I to judge?”
The page I read held words I understood in theory, but put together in that context, made no sense. “Barnes.” I nudged her with an elbow, not wanting to take my eyes off the page, “What’s slick? And knotting? And?—”
“Oh my— I did not expect you to actually read it!” The words came out somewhere between a hiss and a shriek.
“Is this what you were reading at the game?” Even though I didn’t understand half of it, I got why it entertained her. Hell, I was intrigued after a single page.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The tilt of her mouth when she said it turned contrite and a little wicked. She put her coffee in the cupholder, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip like she held back a laugh.
Bewildered was an understatement. What could she possibly have been reading for her to look so… evil? Was it a treatise on murdering unsuspecting hockey players? Some kind of weird tentacle porn? Which honestly sounded kind of intriguing.
“Fine, I suppose I can tell you about my… little problem.” The last two words sounded the same as her expression, a little bit devious.
Huh. What did that mean? Drugs? Drinking?
No, not this girl. I took a sip of the sparkling water I ordered in lieu of coffee , reevaluating my impression of her.
But no, she still had that straight-A student vibe, a little bit prickly maybe, but I wouldn’t have pegged her for being addicted to anything stronger than caffeine and maybe true crime podcasts.
All I really knew about her was her love of music, her use of something called a penetrometer, and how quickly she dropped everything to get to someone she loved.
I knew better than to assume I knew someone based on a first impression, but I also couldn’t resist needling her to get that fiery look in her eye.
“Barnes, you’re a deviant. I bet you have a naughty little collection of sex toys. ”
Pink stained her cheeks, but she met my eyes. “I have a drawer full of sex toys, but I only started my collection recently.” The pretty pink flush turned to beet red, and her eyes flicked away.
Now she caught me off guard. I never would’ve expected her to be so candid, and clearly, she didn’t mean to be, based on that blush.
“How interesting.” I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. The ring on my middle finger pressed into the pad of my thumb as I spun it, waiting for her to continue.